


All I want to get is (a little bit closer)

by aprettyaway



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Consent issues resulting from said sexual slavery, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Nick being bad at feelings, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprettyaway/pseuds/aprettyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick buys Harry half as an impulse, half as a favor, conveniently forgetting that Nick knows nothing about having a companion.</p>
<p>Alternate universe in which people can essentially own personal sex slaves, called companions. Nick is now one of those people, and Harry is his companion. It takes some getting used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I want to get is (a little bit closer)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is thanks to Tegan and Sara. 
> 
> So this started out as a much larger fic idea, but for some reason I wasn't into writing the full-blown thing. I liked it as a short story thing, though, so I thought I'd post it. Might write more snippets, idk.

Nick really, _really_ needs to go home. It’s just gone two in the morning, which means that he’s on his fifth hour of drinking and… twenty-second hour of being awake. Jesus Christ.

He hasn’t been home at all during that time either, seeing as Nick is currently avoiding his home. Because home is where Harry is. Harry, his companion that he bought three weeks ago and still, _still_ has not had sex with.

Everyone told him that it was best to get it over with quick, like taking off a plaster. It helps create expectations, or something like that. Half the point is to have sex with your companion, after all, so why wouldn't you do it right away? Nick should have listened, probably, but it just didn’t feel right. It felt nonconsensual. Even though you didn’t really need consent, from a companion. Could a companion even technically give consent, seeing as they were essentially under the ownership of another human? Nick had no idea (still doesn’t, actually). Regardless, Harry and Nick didn’t have sex, that first night. Nick was a proper gentleman, showing Harry around the house and then to his own room. There wasn’t even a kiss. 

And there hasn’t been anything since, either.

So here he is, at Alexa’s, drinking glass after glass of wine, and wondering at what point will Alexa be drunk enough that she will let him sleep on her couch without asking any questions.

It’s been getting better, he thinks. Caroline has virtually become his hotline for all things pertaining to companions, but she more than deserves it. It was Caroline, after all, who called up Nick, saying, “Look, Grimmy, friends of mine have to let their companion go, and, well, you remember Harry, right? I think you would be really good for each other.”

And obviously Nick remembered Harry, knew that Harry was gorgeous with an easy smile framed by dimples and legs that seemed to never end. But he didn’t know _Harry_ , the boy who loved to cook and walk around naked and watch reality telly. At the start Nick didn’t even know how he was supposed to get to know those sort of things about him. Getting a companion isn’t exactly like dating now, is it? 

It’s been getting better, though, with Caroline’s help. He and Harry have a schedule now, where Harry gets up with Nick to make him tea and breakfast before he leaves for the radio, and then Harry goes back to bed sometimes, and other times he stays up. He does the laundry, gets groceries, and generally keeps the flat in much better shape than Nick ever did. 

But it’s still… tense. They still tiptoe around each other, a bit, with Harry trying to please Nick, and Nick not really knowing how to respond. Which leads to the situation Nick finds himself in right now: leaving Harry at home so that Nick can relax, only to spend the entire time thinking about Harry anyways.

Before Nick can continue on this downward spiral, he’s distracted by the less-than-dulcet sound of Aimee squealing his name. He turns around, just in time to have her throw her arms around him.

“Didn’t you leave an hour back?” Nick asks, hazily recalling a hug and Aimee leading Ian away. Probably to have sex, or something. Nick hadn’t questioned it at the time. 

“Ended up just smoking outside instead,” Aimee says, glancing around obviously. And then she frowns. “Have you not brought Harry with you? I’ve not seen him anywhere.” 

That’s the other thing: literally all of Nick’s friends are completely smitten with Harry. Which just makes Nick feel like even more of an arse.

"He’s at home,” Nick says. If he’d had less wine, he would power through and change the subject, but as it is he sort of stalls.

“God, Nick, you’re the worst. That boy is completely smitten with you, and you just leave him alone on a Friday night,” Aimee says accusingly.

There’s no good response to that, because Nick _is_ the worst and he should never be allowed to own a companion ever again. He takes the last gulp of his wine, to console himself. He must look appropriately morose, because Aimee’s look of disapproval softens minutely.

“Stop being an arse, and go home to Harry,” she says, shoving Nick none-too-gently in the stomach.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Nick says, mostly because he really should be going home, and maybe a bit because of the way his heart constricted at the thought of _going home to Harry_.

 *

The lights are off, when Nick gets back to his flat. 

The first thing he does is get himself a glass of water. He immediately drinks it, and then refills the glass again before tiptoeing over to Harry’s bedroom door. 

“Harry’s room” is really Nick’s old guest room. When Harry first moved in, Nick was adamant about Harry having his own room, even though Caroline said it was weird. Even Harry gave Nick a strange look when Nick explained it. 

“But, what if you want me, like?” Nick remembers Harry asking uncertainly in his slow, deep voice. Nick vividly recalls turning even redder than Harry’s unnaturally red lips, and stuttering some sort of vague response before offering to show Harry how the shower knobs worked.

Harry might not have understood why Nick gave him his own room, but he knows how to do as he’s told, so he’s slept in the guest room every night since that first night. So when Nick sticks his head in, he’s expecting to see Harry’s curls sticking out from under the duvet. 

Instead, he is greeted with an empty bed. 

Nick pauses, swaying in the doorway. He flicks on the light, just to be sure it’s not a trick of the shadows, but nope, Harry is definitely not there. Which begs the question of where he is. Nick didn’t see him on the couch when he walked in, so there’s only one place he could be. 

Sure enough, when Nick opens his own bedroom door, there is a human-shaped lump lying on top of his duvet. 

Harry’s curled up fast asleep, wrapped up in a blanket so that only his head and feet are visible. Nick feels a warm thrum in his stomach, watching Harry’s chest rise and fall under the fluffy brown blanket that blended in perfectly with his curls. It’s one of those moments when Nick is acutely aware of how young Harry is. Only eighteen, just old enough to legally drink. (Well, only if Nick allows it.)

Nick seriously considers sleeping on the couch, in that moment. He strips down to his boxers and brushes his teeth, thinking about what it would be like to sleep next to Harry. About how awkward it would be in the morning, and about having Harry’s long limbs wrapped around Nick, Harry’s bouncy curls tickling his chin. 

It couldn’t hurt, Nick thinks as he rinses the toothpaste out of his mouth, to sleep together this one time. 

Harry is lying on Nick’s side of the bed, so Nick walks over to the other side as quietly as possible, because the only thing that would make this more awkward would be if Harry - 

 “Nick?”

Nick freezes. He watches as, seemingly in slow motion, Harry turns over, rubbing his eyes. 

“It’s just me, love,” Nick says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Here, let’s get you under the covers.” 

“M’sorry,” Harry mumbles, even as he squirms to let Nick pull the duvet out from under him and then cover both of them with it. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep; was waiting for you.” 

Nick shushes him soothingly. “It’s alright,” he reassures. “Go back to sleep, love.” 

Harry must still be mostly asleep, because he lets out a little pleased moan and curls up closer to Nick. Completely lost, Nick stares at him before slowly lowering his head on the pillow. They’re so close, just barely touching. Fuck it, Nick thinks, and puts an arm around Harry’s shoulders, tucking him closer into Nick’s chest. Harry snuffles, burrowing his face into Nick’s t-shirt.

Nick looks down to see Harry staring up at him under heavy lids. Slowly, Nick runs his hand up and down the knobs of Harry’s spine, from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, and up again. 

It should probably be awkward. It’s quite late at night, they’re both silent, and Nick is still a bit drunk. But for some reason, it isn’t awkward at all. Harry’s breathing evens out almost immediately as he falls back into sleep, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts. Instead of being burdened by the boy lying on top of him and everything it implies, Nick feels strangely peaceful. He wonders why he thought it would be so hard, sharing a bed with Harry.

Nick falls asleep moments later, to the sound of Harry’s deep breaths.

* 

When Nick wakes up, he is immediately aware of two things – the incessant vibrating of a mobile, and Harry’s hard on pressed up against Nick’s thigh.

It’s still early – just past seven in the morning, Nick realizes as he glances over at his clock. Nick groans, trying to stretch without jostling Harry, but it's no use. 

Harry comes awake much more quickly than he did the night before. His eyes blink open as soon as Nick tries to shift away, and the sleepiness is gone from them almost immediately. Harry rolls off of Nick and sits up, his blanket dropping to his waist and very, very close to revealing his cock. Nick isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed.

And then Harry has a mobile in his hand, and is scrolling rapidly through a chain of messages. Which, okay.

“Christ, who the bloody hell is texting you at this hour?” Nick groans. 

“Just a friend,” Harry says, typing a quick reply and then locking his mobile again. He lies back down, but is careful to shift just far enough that he and Nick aren’t touching anymore. He pulls his blanket back up over him, to just below his chin. "He's in America, actually, so it's still nighttime over there."

Whom is Harry even messaging? How does he know someone in America? Does he message other companion friends? Is he talking to his old owners? Neither seems likely. Keeping in contact with a companion you sell is bad form, and how often do companions have time to socialize with each other without their owners there, also socializing?

“Did you have an old mobile, then?” Nick asks. The thought hasn’t occurred to him until now, but it’s not such a farfetched idea. Nick gave Harry a mobile, after all, so why wouldn’t his old owner have done so as well? “I should have thought to ask, so you could have transferred your contacts.”

“S’alright, it wasn’t that hard to get people’s numbers,” Harry says easily. He looks energized and unselfconscious, like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders. It’s rare, that Nick gets to look so unreservedly at Harry without the younger man looking away, blushing and grinning down at the ground, like he’s just pleased that Nick’s looking at him. “Aimee messaged, also – wanted me to tell you to check your mobile first thing when you woke up.”

“You have Aimee’s number?” Nick asks faintly. 

But Harry is already shuffling away, out of the bed. “Would you like tea?”

Nick intends to respond, but the words get caught in his throat because Harry is _naked_ , okay, is just standing next to Nick’s bed _naked._ And apparently spend the night in Nick’s bed naked as well. Unaware of Nick’s predicament, Harry retrieves his blanket from where its tangled in the duvet, wraps it around himself once again, and says, “I’ll make you some tea.” 

Nick watches him leave, blinks, and then grabs his mobile from off the nightstand to see what Aimee’s fussing about. He’s not finished reading her drunken tirade before Harry’s back, putting a plate with a scone, butter, and jam on the nightstand next to Nick.

“Where did this come from?” Nick asks. He’s fairly certain he hasn’t bought scones, recently. 

“I got them from this market that happens on Wednesdays by the park,” Harry says. “They’re fresher than those ones from Sainsbury’s. And I got this homemade jam, too, to go with it.” 

Nick never knew there was a market on Wednesday by the park, so how Harry managed to find it after less than a month of living at Nick’s flat is… impressive. Just like everything else about Harry, basically. 

Nick sits up, propping himself up against the headboard. 

“C’mere,” he says, and Harry does, walking forward and then climbing onto Nick’s lap, straddling his thighs. Not exactly what Nick meant, but he doesn’t feel like he’s in much of a position to complain.

Seeing Harry like this, just woken with bedhead and the imprint of the sheets still on his cheek and the sun streaming through the window to magnify the expanses of Harry's tanned skin, is new for Nick. He can't help but drink it in, to admire the picture perfect view in front of him. 

Harry, for his part, sits there patiently. He's probably used to being looked at, Nick thinks, as he tries to come up with something - anything - to say. 

Nick is so distracted trying to break the silence that it takes him a moment to notice Harry leaning in, his eyes flitting between Nicks lips and his eyes. Harry's going to kiss him, Nick realizes belatedly. Nick could probably stop it if he was so inclined. Harry's moving slowly, as if afraid that Nick will spook. He's giving Nick ample time to pull away. But Nick doesn't want to pull away anymore. He just doesn't quite know how to lean in, either. 

So he stays perfectly still, taking shallow breathes, and then Harry's lips are on his, kissing him gently. 

Harry takes it slow, closed-mouthed and tender. His lips are a bit chapped, but overall warm and pleasant. Nick feels a tingle up his spine that he hasn't felt for awhile, and he feels himself opening up, and kissing back. Their lips work together slowly, feeling each other out.

Now that Nick's kissing Harry, he can't help but wonder why he's waited so long. Harry's started to gain confidence, pressing up closer to Nick and kissing him with the sort of fervor that makes it impossible for Nick to think of anything else.. Nick's never been much of a kisser; his mind tends to wander and he doesn't always give it his all, preferring to save up his energy for more exciting exploits. Now, though, Nick's entire world has narrowed to Harry and the places where their bodies meet. 

It's Harry who pulls away first, and his lips are even redder than usual, shiny and well-kissed. Somehow one of Nick's hands has ended up fisted in Harry's curls, and when he slides it back down Harry's back, he's left Harry's hair tousled.

“Hi,” Harry rasps, a slow smile spreading across his face. Nick laughs, sneaking his hands under Harry’s blanket to wrap around his waist – and then freezes.

Because Harry is still naked under the blanket. 

Harry seems to realize it at the same time Nick does.

“I’m sorry,” he says worriedly, brow furrowed. “I can-“

Nick shushes him, running the pads of his thumbs over the crevices of Harry’s stomach. Harry’s breath catches, and he squirms in Nicks lap. Nick pauses, but Harry doesn’t seem to be pulling away, so he goes for broke and takes Harry’s cock in one hand.

He’s only about half-hard, having calmed down from his initial morning wood, but it only takes a couple of strokes for Harry to get completely hard. Harry shudders, letting the blanket fall and pool around his waist as he reaches up to grip Nick’s shoulders. Nick admires the view for a moment – Harry’s wild curls and pink mouth, and the flush slowly spreading down the front of his chest to where his hips are rocking in rhythm with Nick’s strokes.

And then one of Harry’s hands is slipping between them, palming at Nick through his briefs.

“Fuck,” Nick breathes, canting his hips upwards.

“Can- can I see?” Harry asks between deep, panting breaths.. “Please?”

Nick swallows and nods, and then Harry’s hand is taking Nick’s cock out and stroking in time with Nick.

Harry's hand is big and mostly soft, and for a second Harry just cradles his cock, lets Nick squirm in anticipation, before matching Nick's pace. It’s embarrassing, how worked up Nick gets, just from having Harry so close. He’s so beautiful, and Nick’s been trying so hard not to think about this, but that’s gone out the window now, because Harry is biting his lip and throwing his head back with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Nick,” he pants, and Nick strokes him faster, running his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock. Harry's hand has gone a bit slack around Nick's cock, so Nick does the gentlemanly thing and takes them both in his hand, their cocks together and stroking them as best he can, with Harry writhing above him and the slipperiness of their combined precome. Nick can feel himself getting close, and Harry is close to, if his little broken moans are any indication. 

Harry comes first with a whimper, body going limp and collapsing against Nick's chest, allowing Nick to stroke himself and rub the head of his cock up against Harry's smooth abs. He comes seconds later, squirting onto Harry's stomach.

“Christ,” Nick breathes into the shaky silence.

Harry is still trembling, panting into Nick’s collarbone. Nick runs his clean hand soothingly up and down the knobs of Harry’s back.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles into Nick’s throat. “I haven’t – not since I’ve come here.”

“Wh-what?” Nick asks faintly, and then it registers. A companion is supposed to have sex with their owner. And if their owner is not having sex with them, well…

Nick swallows and then decides to change the subject. He picks up Harry’s blanket and uses it to wipe the come off their skin as best he can. It’s not perfect, but nor does he particularly feel like getting up to get a wash cloth. “Let’s get us cleaned up and go back to bed, shall we? I’m still knackered.”

Harry stifles a yawn and nods. He clambers up off of Nick’s thighs, which are well numb at this point. Nick flexes his muscles, trying to return feeling to his legs as Harry collects the now soiled blanket and tosses it to the ground.

“My mum gave me that blanket, as a house warming present,” Nick comments inanely.

“I’ll get the stains out later,” Harry promises as he tucks himself up next to Nick under the covers, and Nick knows he will.


End file.
